


take your time rolling up your sleeves

by aniloquent



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Pining, awkward misunderstanding, bakery au because god knows there's not enough of those, i should really do more with niall, niall fixes everything because he's the only one with common sense, outsider harry, why did I write ziam so mushy? dear god i'm cringing, ziam and nouis share an apartment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:15:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aniloquent/pseuds/aniloquent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Lovely. Could you whip us up a strawberry shortcake with a message on it?” Harry nods again, drawing his notepad from one of the pockets of his apron and waits for the message. “‘We all knew the cat was going to leave you for something better.’” Harry sputters while the raven-haired boy elbows his friend harshly.</p>
<p>“Louis,” he chides. “You’re such an absolute dick, you know that?”</p>
<p>Louis shrugs as a little scowl pulls at thin lips. “What the fuck am I supposed to put on it? ‘Sorry me and Zayn threw the fucking mutt out into traffic during a trash wrestling match and it decided to take a fucking hike?’” Zayn, he presumes, hits him again. Harry blinks.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Based on the twitter prompt "I work in a bakery and you keep coming in and asking me to write you weird messages on cakes"</p>
<p>Song: All Over by Cruisr</p>
            </blockquote>





	take your time rolling up your sleeves

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for not posting in literally a century, I'm a giant smoothie of laziness, writer's block, and stress, so please, bare with me. This is super fluffy and light because I feel like I'm about to start posting darker things with a more thorough plot, or I might keep posting fluffy and light stuff because it lifts my mood.
> 
> Also: this is unedited and straight from my laptop so also pardon any grammatical or spelling errors.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> UPDATED NOTE: Coming from an avid animal rights activist and lover of all animals, especially cats, I realize that it was bad judgement to make light of something like animal death. With that being said, I saw it made some people uncomfortable so I decided to change it just the slightest to where Niall's poor cat didn't die. Sorry to anyone that might have offended!

Harry is okay with weird. He can do weird.

That one time he had to do a baby shower cake that replicated actual birth was weird, but he still accepted the challenge and handed the detailed cake over to the blushing woman with a smile. When he had to do the birthday cake with thirteen different names in six different languages, it was a struggle, it was a bit strange, but he had to grin and bear it because he had really needed the money.

This? This was something different.

Harry is counting money fifteen minutes before closing when the bell above the bakery door chimes loudly. He raises his head to see two boys around his age - albeit disgruntled and a tad dirtier - arguing by the door, shoving each other roughly and spitting curses. Harry smiles.

“Hi,” he calls, and gets the boys’ attention. They cut annoyed glances his way, and Harry feels himself shrink a little. The shorter one has icy blue eyes that are trying to slice him in half. “Welcome to Give Me Some Sugar,” The handsome one with inky black hair snorts. Harry winces. “Where, uh,” Harry has never been more embarrassed of the stupid catchphrase he came up with. “you can have your cakes, pies, and cookies, and eat them, too.”

The boys exchange amused looks before sauntering towards the counter. Harry wraps long fingers along the immaculate glass nervously. Blue Eyes has a wolfish grin playing on sharp features, and Harry feels his gut cave in a little.

See, it’s not that Harry is socially anxious (quite the opposite, actually, Nick likes to remind him when they get kicked out of parties after Harry makes everyone cry by bringing up Blackfish), it’s just that his job doesn’t really attract his desired demographic. Running a small, dainty bakery in London usually attracts pregnant women and grandmothers with too much time on their hands, not cute, dirty street boys that Harry wants to know more about. 

Needless to say, Harry is a bit overwhelmed.

“Evening, Harold,” Blue Eyes says in a raspy voice, eyeing Harry’s frilly nametag with enthusiasm that’s making him squirm slightly. 

“It’s just Harry,” he corrects politely, offering a smile small to the darker, quieter one. He stares back blankly.

“Right, of course,” Blue Eyes mutters offhandedly, scrutinizing the display cakes. “You take requests, right?” Harry nods, mouth dry as they make eye contact. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen cerulean personified like that before. “Lovely. Could you whip us up a strawberry shortcake with a message on it?” Harry nods again, drawing his notepad from one of the pockets of his apron and waits for the message. “‘We all knew the cat was going to leave you for something better.’” Harry sputters while the raven-haired boy elbows his friend harshly.

“Louis,” he chides. “You’re such an absolute dick, you know that?”

Louis shrugs as a little scowl pulls at thin lips. “What the fuck am I supposed to put on it? ‘Sorry me and Zayn threw the fucking mutt out into traffic during a trash wrestling match and it decided to take a fucking hike?’” Zayn, he presumes, hits him again. Harry blinks.

Zayn and Louis have an intense staring contest and curse each other through looks in the way only best friends can before Zayn sighs, running a tattooed hand through his dark hair. “It would be Zayn and I, we’ve discussed correct conversational grammar usage,” he says tiredly before turning to Harry. “Are we overwhelming you right now?”

Zayn is gorgeous, even though he’s on the verge of filthy. He’s got smooth, exotic skin that reminds Harry of the biscottis he puts out on Tuesday mornings. Although his person is slumped and slow-moving, his tawny eyes are alert, analyzing as fast as his nimble fingers are moving, seeming to lace and unlace themselves with a mind of their own. He’s worrying a pink bottom lip between pearly teeth as he raises thick, concerned brows.

Harry forces out a laugh and shakes his head frantically. He thinks he read somewhere that it’s actually, like, illegal to worry people this beautiful. “No, um, I’m fine. It’s been a busy day.” The silence that follows is almost physically painful as Louis and Zayn take exaggerated glances around the empty, quiet building. 

“Right,” Louis drawls, looking at Harry with squinty, smiling eyes. “I’m sure it was, babe.”

Babe. That was unexpected. “Uh, here’s the form to fill out,” he says, sliding papers across the table. He reaches for a thick binder to hand to Zayn. “These are designs for fonts, colors, images you may want, etcetera.”

Louis grins at him. “I’ve never heard someone say that entire word so casually.” Zayn rolls his eyes and pulls Louis towards a table, where they sit down and bicker and shove long enough for Harry to do more observing than watching.

Zayn is stunning, but Louis is enigmatic. He’s openly bouncy, whereas Zayn disguises his hyperactivity under careless shrugs and heavy sighs. He’s the tinny, consistent soprano to his friend’s annoyed alto rumbles, poking Zayn’s cheek and ruffling his hair without even so much as a nod at Zayn’s cloudy aura. Louis is a mixture of feminine and masculine appeal, the rough splatter of stubble across his chin balanced out by the slightly sway of his round hips. He’s quick eyes and sideways grins and unseasonably tanned skin that makes Harry sigh because fuck, this is a customer and Harry isn’t in a fucking Nicholas Sparks film.

Harry might have a crush, he decides, as Louis and Zayn reappear at the counter ten minutes later. Zayn hands him the binder at the same time Louis slaps down the paper. Harry snorts at the crude drawing of the discombobulated feline with x’s for eyes. 

He rings up the cake as Louis hands over money. “It’ll be ready by two tomorrow, guys,” he assures the duo with a beam as they make for the door. “Try not to kill anymore cats? It makes my job less depressing.” 

Louis lets out a laugh that Harry replays thirty times in his head. “No, promises, Curly, no promises,” And then the pair is gone, and Harry’s left with a dead cat cake to make. Smashing.

-

Zayn alone picks up the cake the following day, dirt smudges replaces with blotchy spots of paint integrated with his black hair and caked under his nails. He smiles smugly as Harry tries to hide his moping.

“Thanks again, mate. You’ll probably see more of us,” Zayn consoles, grabbing at the cake and carefully treading towards the door. “By the way, he wouldn’t stop talking about how green your eyes are. I reckon you’ve got a shot.”

Whether or not Harry literally squeals isn’t information he’s willing to disclose without video evidence.

-

It’s been three weeks since Harry’s seen Louis (and Zayn, his conscience adds), and he’s about to call the handsome lad on his bullshit. Harry gets quite attached and quite smitten more easily than he’d like to admit, and he’s a hopeless romantic at heart. Zayn leading him to think he might have a chance with the cute boy is sort of cruel and unusual punishment, he thinks as he angrily squeezes a blob of rosy icing out of the tube.

The door chimes, and Harry doesn’t look up, too engrossed in his task. “Hi,” he sings out, eyes nearly crossing as he stares down at the cupcake. “Welcome to Give Me Some Sugar, where -”

“You can have your cakes, pies, and cookies,” Zayn teases.

“And eat them, too!” Louis finishes. Harry narrowly avoids dropping the icing tube into the cupcake. Because he’s so uncoordinated and cursed with such bad luck, jerking his arms back to keep from ruining the cupcake means elbowing the sack of flour on the table, which erupts and coats Harry’s left ear in powder. The delighted laugh he hears makes it all worth it, though.

“Hi Louis, hi Zayn,” He greets happily. He suddenly notices the blonde crouching next to Louis, inspecting the cakes behind the glass with near-professional judgement. “Er, hi -”

“Niall,” he finishes, rising to his feet with a grunt. “What’s this? A musical or something?” He demands, gesturing between the other three. “Why wasn’t I invited?” He offers a sunny smile and a sweaty palm to Harry over the counter. “Nice to meet you, mate,” Niall says, then nudges Louis. “This one’s been on about you for proper ages - ow!” the blonde shrinks away from Louis’ vicious assault on the back of his head. Harry can barely bite down his smile.

Zayn, always the calm storm, rolls his eyes. “Boys, please?”

Niall scowls, cheeks tinged pink. “Hey, no one said we had to do this, Malik. This was your sodding idea.”

Zayn stomped his foot childishly. “It would be rude not to! Besides, he liked the cake last time.”

Louis grabs Harry’s wrist, and Harry ponders the color of their first child’s nursery. “It was fucking amazing cake, love,”

Harry blushes more from the pet name than the mutters of agreement, but he’s thankful for the delusion.

“Yeah, almost made me forget about my runaway cat,” Niall spits viciously, shoving Louis so hard it breaks his hold on Harry’s arm as he tumbles into Zayn. The guilty duo share sighs.

“It was an accident, Nialler,” Louis coaxes gently, and Niall’s sky blue eyes are blazing so fiercely, Harry takes a step away from the counter.

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall bites, viciously wiping at wet eyes. “I’m just saying, cakes are reserved for horrible, heart-wrenching shit like that. Not this.”

Zayn frowns. “Switching his hair gel with lube the day of his job interview isn’t something to joke about.” Harry chokes.

Louis scoffs. “How were we supposed to know that? Not everyone has that telepathic husbandry you two share, Zayner,” he sneers, trying to peg Zayn with a lazy kick the boy narrowly avoids. “It was a joke.”

Harry takes note of how cherry blossoms on Zayn’s high caramel cheekbones. Interesting. “That’s not how you use husbandry, Lou,” He nails Louis with a sharp jab to the ankle, and the brunette lets out a dramatic cry. “He was really upset, too! He came home with this hair all floppy and his eyes all wet, like some kind of stoned puppy.”

Niall snorts. “You guys are banging way too little for you to be that invested in his feelings, Malik. You’re in deep mate.” Zayn shrugs and looks away, chewing aimlessly at his thumbnail. “Besides, at least we used a good one. It was nice and fruity and probably made him smell better than he usually does. Louis, where did you get that particular lube? It was, like, pineapple and orange or something -”

“Okay!” Louis interrupts loudly, sending Harry a panicked glance he can’t help but laugh at. “What were we here for again? Payno’s lube apology cake? Right, then. Harry, mind getting the sheet and book for us, love?” Harry nods and feels his ears heat up when Niall echoes “love” in a scary good impression of Louis’ rough accent. Harry coughs.

Zayn takes the book while Niall eyes the paper. “Lou, you’re absolute shit as consolation, so stay up here and flirt with your boy while Niall and I pick out what we think Li likes.” Neither Louis nor Harry has time to protest before the pair slinks into a corner of the bakery.

Louis gives Harry an apprehensive smile, and he feels his heart flip. “And then there were two,” Harry offers with a small laugh.

“So, Curly,” Louis says, leaning conspiratorially over the counter. Harry felt himself leaning in closer, although it was only the four of them in the bakery. “What does a bloke have to do around here to get a free cupcake or two?” He glances at Niall. “Or, uh, five.”

Have stunning eyes and the most musical laugh to ever fall upon ears. “Prepare larger bills to reimburse the large amount of money that’ll come out of my check.”

Louis fakes a wince. “For a handful of measly, little cupcakes? Seems a bit harsh.”

Harry pouts. “They aren’t measly, that’s nearly half a dozen, Lou,” Louis raises his eyebrows at him, grinning, and Harry doesn’t realize his mistake until a familiar, slow, teasing smile is pulling at pink lips. 

“Onto nicknames, are we?” Louis jests, tugging on one of Harry’s curls. His heart quickens. “Well, wouldn’t want you to have to pick up street work to make up for the cupcakes, now would we?” Harry watches Louis’ eyelashes near his cheekbones as he reaches in his back pocket for his wallet.

“Dunno,” Harry drawls. “I’ve been told I have nice legs. Reckon I could make a killing.”

Louis looks up, delightfully surprised, and Harry mentally exhales. Flirting is Harry’s middle name. He’s got this. “Well, Harry, I think I’ll still pay for the cupcakes, just to keep you off the streets. I’m a bit selfish that way.” And Louis is listing off flavors he wants before Harry can analyze that twenty times backwards.

They go on like that for a few more minutes, Louis teasing and Harry meeting him with witty jabs of his own. Harry’s request for a date is on the tip of his tongue when Zayn and Niall return from their seemingly long selection period.

“Sorry to cut your date short, Harry, but we’re all decided.” Niall says, sliding over the information. Harry flushes - honestly, is there a problem with the air conditioning? - and accepts the paper and binder graciously. He quietly rings up the cake order, ignoring Louis’ eyes watching him. 

“Wasn’t a date,” Louis insists. “Just doing my job and keeping pretty faces away from harm.” Harry should probably be more concerned that neither Niall or Zayn bat an eyelash at Louis’ words. He gulps.

All too quickly, the trio stumbles out of the bakery (and his life, Harry thinks dramatically) and leaves Harry alone with different snippets of Louis’ voice playing in his head.

Louis, who thinks he’s pretty and might be a little selfish when it comes to him. Harry can’t stop smiling.

Green, Harry decides finally, walking to the back of the shop. The nursery should definitely be green.

-

The visits from the familiar group seem to be getting more and more frequent, but Harry isn’t really complaining.

He looks up eagerly at the boom of Niall’s voice, eagerly searching for his favorite brunette. He tries his hardest to conceal his frown when he realizes that the brunette with Niall isn’t the one he was looking for, taller, more muscular with rounder cheeks and warm, brown eyes. He reminds Harry of Gemma’s puppy.

Puppy shoves Niall slightly, hissing something about not disturbing Harry’s craft. He snorts. 

Niall rolls his eyes and offers Harry a bright, contagious smile. “Hi, Haz, this is Liam, Zayn’s boyfriend.” Liam squeaks and whacks Niall in the chest, but his smile doesn’t waver. “Not yet, but technicalities, right?” Harry shakes his head. “Liam, this is Harry, resident culinary god and Louis’ object of affection.”

It’s Harry’s turn to freak out now, and he feels himself grow hot as Liam coos out a soft, “aw” at his peril.

“So, we need a weed disposal apology cake. You down?” Harry shrugs, used to the seemingly inexplicable predicaments the group found themselves in. “Lovely.”

“What is it for this time?” Harry inquires, fetching the materials that they need. Niall laughs while Liam sighs as the duo accepts them graciously. “Er, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Niall nudges Liam, chuckling. “He’s so polite. It’s adorable really, considering how much of a right terror Tommo is, huh? They complete each other.”

Harry shuffles uncomfortably under the motherly gazes he’s receiving, and he assumes “Tommo” is Louis. This is getting a bit out of hand.

Liam gives Harry a comforting smile, and he feels himself relax a bit. His energy is different than the other three, calm and collected to balance out the buzzing around him. “Louis really likes you, mate.”

Harry bites his lip in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the corners of his mouth from pulling up. “I think it’s just my pastries.” he declines. Niall snorts from where he’s scanning the pages of the design binder (or the Designder™; Harry should really get out more).

“Last time I checked, your pastries don’t have ‘huge hands that can probably do magic,’” Niall recites, and what the fuck does that mean? “What are you thinking, Liam? I feel like this font is stoner-esque enough, and would be perfect with a nice weed green.” Niall meets Harry’s questioning stare with a sheepish shrug. “We accidentally threw out all the weed.”

Liam scoffs. “We? I came home to you trying to wash it off in the bleeding sink and you said I was guilty by association!” Niall waves his hand dismissively and continues observing designs and fonts. Liam scowls. “I can’t believe you tried to wash it off.”

“Who the hell keeps weed in the refrigerator? To be fair, it looked like old lettuce or something.”

Liam rolls his eyes in a way that remind Harry a lot of a certain raven-haired boy he’d seen in here not too long ago. “As if you know what lettuce looks like, Horan,”

Niall looks up with narrowed eyes. “Does Zayn just transfer sarcasm into your mouth every time you swallow his dick?” Liam blushes furiously and shakes his head, muttering how much he liked the lettering Niall had settled on.

Harry’s soon left alone with too many words with not enough meaning, because Louis “really likes him” and his brain won’t let him focus on anything else.

He tries to push squinty blue eyes and wide smiles out of his head as he looks up marijuana leaves he can easily emulate.

-

Niall and Louis burst into the shop on one of Harry's quieter work days.

"Harry, my dear boy, it's finally happened!" Niall cries, cradling Harry's head against his chest. Louis rolls his eyes.

"Uh, what's happened?" Harry asks, but it comes out muffled against Niall's shirt.

"Liam and Zayn! They're official now!" Niall sighs contentedly as Louis grunts, kicking at a spot on the floor. Harry raises an eyebrow. "We need a cake to celebrate. I think I already have the message - 'we all knew this was going to happen after you accidentally on purpose sucked his dick at that party one time but congrats anyways'." Louis cracks a smile while Harry shakes his head.

"Brevity isn't your strong suit, Niall," Harry chides joking, handing over the design materials and watching Niall bound to a table by himself.

Niall is fussing over the potential cake to himself as Louis leans against the counter, looking bored and effortlessly cooler than Harry. He sighs.

“Don’t really know why he’s making such a shit over this,” Louis grunts, swirling around the few coins in the tip jar. Harry watches his hooded eyes follow the change. “It’s not that big a deal.”

Harry shrugs, smiling at how Niall coos over certain designs he sees. “I think it’s cute. Zayn and Liam go together.”

Louis groans, setting down the container and taking Harry’s breath away with a bright blue look of distress. “Not you too?”

Harry thinks he might lean over and kiss Louis in the next few minutes, so he busies himself with wiping down the already clean counter. Louis seems to pick up on this and snorts. “What do you mean?”

Louis throws up his hands, and Harry finds himself hopefully endeared. “They’re disgusting! I mean look at them!”

Harry frowns slightly, trying to ignore the sirens going off in his head. Louis can’t be saying what he thinks he’s saying. “They’re a rather attractive couple, Louis. You have to admit it,” he chides, raising his eyebrows at the older man, but his warning falls on deaf ears, it seems.

Louis gives another dissatisfied grunt. “They’re cute I guess, and I’m happy for them, but it would be great if they didn’t do it around me. I didn’t sign up to live in a porno.” Harry lets out a frustrated sigh and runs his hand down his face.

“Damnit!” He snaps, and watches Louis jump in surprise. “Why does this always happen? I was sure you were flirting back!”

Louis blinks at him blankly. “What the hell are you on about?”

“Non-straight relationships are valid, you know, and they deserve just as much respect as anyone else,” Harry lectures, refusing to meet Louis’ bewildered stare.

“You think I’m - oh my god,” Louis sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb. “Harry, I can’t be homophobic,” he assures, but Harry isn’t convinced.

“You can be homophobic and have gay friends, Louis. It happens,” he shoots back, crossing his arms.

“Harry, I’m gay.”

In that moment, Harry’s brain remembers what sarcasm is and how to detect it and how to take a joke. He offers a weak “oh” and Louis gives him a rather sardonic nod.

Harry feels like a fish, the way his mouth is opening and closing, scrambling for a quick apology, but Louis is being pulled out of the shop too quickly. He fixes Harry with an unreadable look on his face before following the blonde out into the breezy Friday evening.

-

Niall picks up the cake the next day. Harry tries not to read too much into it.

-

Harry’s smile doesn’t completely reach his eyes when Liam, Zayn, and Niall bound through the door on a late Tuesday evening. The shop is completely empty, so it’s nearly impossible for Harry to pretend that he didn’t hear them come in and close shop. He sighs.

Zayn frowns when Harry recites his lines tiredly, voice trailing off by the time he reaches the end. He tugs on Liam’s hand and looks up at him questioningly, but Liam just shrugs and presses a kiss to Zayn’s forehead. Harry hates couples.

“Harry, my lovely, curly-haired prince,” Niall greets happily. Harry bares his teeth in what he hopes resembles a smile. Niall doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push anyway. “It’s time.” Harry raises his eyebrows. “Louis needs a cake.”

His eyes widen nervously as he looks past the smiling blonde at the couple behind him. They smile at him encouragingly. “W-what?”

Niall rolls his eyes. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, because you’re almost as dense as Liam.” He receives a smack to the back of the head, and Harry can’t tell who it’s from. Love is truly a beautiful thing. “He’s been down and out about something since the last time we were over here, and I’m pretty sure it’s your fault.”

Harry surprises even himself when he lets out an annoyed groan. “I didn’t know he was into guys! He sounded pretty homophobic!” 

Zayn laughs harder than Harry has ever seen him laugh before. “Please, Louis wouldn’t know homophobic if it fucked him in the ass.”

Liam ponders for a bit. “Technically, it wouldn’t really fuck him in the ass considering it’s homophobia. It would probably just throw around slurs and bible verses.”

Zayn looks up at him lovingly before pecking him on the cheek. “I love it when you get philosophical on me.” Niall flips both of them off.

“Anyways,” the blonde says pointedly, turning back to Harry, who’s more than a little disturbed at the counter. “You know the drill. Sheet and binder - but you’re helping us out with this one.” Harry is too overwhelmed to do much more that oblige. 

He feels himself move and nod and laugh during the brainstorming session, but his mind is somewhere else. Louis was gay. He should have known that, should have known from how they flirted before, and Harry feels like an idiot. He tells this to Niall, who laughs and pats his shoulder reassuringly. 

“It’s okay, mate. I have an amazing idea that’ll have him falling into your arms in no time.”

-

Harry can see why no one takes advice from Niall.

“Niall, this is a really stupid idea,” Harry huffs, shifting from foot to foot nervously. Somehow, Harry has let Niall talk him into delivering the cake for Louis to the foursome’s shared apartment, confess his love for Louis, and reconcile with the brunette in what Niall calls a “Ben Affleck-esque rom-com kiss”. Harry’s having serious doubts now that he’s really here, and there’s only a thin slab of wood separating him and the boy he’s been pining over forever.

He glances worriedly at the apartment door, as if it would sympathize with him and lock him out along with the blonde.

Niall snorts and jams his key into the lock, shouldering the door open. He smiles at Harry brightly, who feels his stomach drop into his ass. “This is totally going to work, trust me,” he says, and punches Harry in the shoulder, who scrambles to right the status of the large cake teetering in his hands. He glares at Niall. “LouBear! You have a visitor!” Niall teases, and Harry begrudgingly follows him in. 

Harry sees Louis before Louis sees Harry. He’s sitting - no, slouching - on the worn couch, the dull glow of the television screen illuminating his brilliant blue eyes. His hair is falling into his eyes, and his fingers are barely above the brim of a large jumper he’s wearing. Harry thinks it’s too soon for his heart to be beating in his chest like this.

Louis rolls his eyes and scoffs, attention still focused on the footie game. “Nialler, next time you convince a prostitute to come up here and give me a lap dance, I swear to God I’m kicking you off the fucking lease,” he promises, and sighs, finally looking up. Blue meets green, and the room goes completely silent. 

Niall coughs before shuffling into the kitchen, leaving Harry and Louis to continue their staring contest. “‘M getting a beer. I need to be pissed out of my mind to endure this impending love fest.”

Louis is still staring at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face, and Harry takes that as his cue to start apologizing. “Uh - hi, Louis,” his voice cracks, and he winces. God, is he fucking sixteen? “This is for you,” he shoves the cake away from himself unceremoniously, and Louis is still watching him. “I didn’t know you were gay. You sort of sounded like a homophobe, to be fair.”

Harry’s met with silence. He sighs and looks for somewhere to put the cake down, which is currently serving as his metaphorical scapegoat for this failed almost-relationship. God.

“I’ll just leave this here, sorry,” he mumbles, putting the cake down on the floor and moving towards the door. He feels an arm tug at his sleeve before he’s face to face with a smiling Louis.

“Apology accepted,” Louis says and kiss Harry on the cheek. Niall cooes at how red his face gets. “Now, who told you to write ‘get a boyfriend or turn down the porn’?”

Harry snorts and shakes his head. “Who do you think? I thought it was a bit distasteful to be honest.”

Niall makes a distressed noise from behind them. “I thought it was funny!”


End file.
